with shaking hands
by Tariel H
Summary: This isn't the man she knows, the boy she grew up with. She's sitting in the car with a stranger, one who looks and talks just like her Duncan but one who has lost himself in the abyss. For once, she's not sure she has the strength to pull him back out. And, for once her hands won't stop shaking.
1. Chapter 1

"I left her…" Duncan grumbled to himself as he banged on Gwen's door with both his fists. There is a churning motion n his stomach, probably from the alcohol and the drugs and the greasy foods he has been stuffing himself with.

"I left her." He says it with loudly, more certainty, and the tears are threatening to fall, but Gwen opens the door covered in paint and holds a paintbrush in one hand.

It falls to the ground with a deafening thud and she holds out paint-splattered arms toward him. He doesn't have to say anything, it's written all over his face.

"Hey you…" She rubs circles on his back, slowly dragging him into her tiny apartment. Duncan continues to mutter nonsensical nonsense against her neck, the tears still manages to squeeze their way out of his closed eyes. She lays him down in her bed but he pulls her down with him, curling up against her chest.

The sigh escapes her lips before she can stop it, sometimes she forgets how truly pitiful he can act despite the façade of being strong. It's the most natural thing in the world for her to wrap her shorter arms around him; it's the most natural thing for him to fall asleep in her arms.

He doesn't cry for long, he never has. When the worst of the cry has past he just lays there in her bed, quietly, not saying a word.

In hindsight it doesn't take long for her to rock him to sleep, an hour. Maybe two. She's got this bad habit of forgetting everything around her (including time) when Duncan is near.

Devotion, some would call it. Other would call it love. And Gwen desperately wishes she could figure out which.

His cold nose pressing against her neck draws her back to the present, and she leans over kissing him softly on the forehead.

A small luxury, one she cannot deny herself.

She disentangles Duncan's arms from around her waist, sliding carefully out of bed. Somehow she gets Duncan's ratty hoodie from under him and has extricated a small arsenal of drugs from the depths of his pockets.

Her heart thuds loudly, painfully as she flushes it all down the toilet. The alcohol goes next; she won't have him drinking himself to death in her house. She rummages in the top shelf and finds a stray pack of cigarette's and a small blue lighter and places them on the beside table next to him.

His eyes are skewed shut, a grimace on his lips and he is murmured quietly in Spanish, something she can't quite hear but she brushes the hair out of his eyes and he seems to smile in his sleep.

He sleeps seems calmer; he's one of the only people she knows with a smile when he's truly happy. She slides back in bed, curling up on one side and together they sleep, subconsciously cuddling together.

* * *

**A/N: This will wither turn into a Duncan and Gwen fic or a Duncan and Courtney fic but it's completely up to you guys, my faithful reviewers. Let me know! **

**Read and Review, I appreciate every one of you guys who drops a review. Thanks **

**~Tariel **


	2. Chapter 2

She wakes up and he is sitting up, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and he tosses the lighter from hand to hand.

"Refrain from setting my house on fire. I'm too broke to pay for the insurance damages." The corners of his mouth slide up in a smirk and he pinches the bridge of her nose between his thumb and index finger.

"Whatever you say Pasty." His voice has taking on a peculiar edge, more husky than normal and his eyes have barely noticeable bags under them. He turns to grin at her but falters; all at once his eyes hold a deep sadness, one than turns his pale blue eyes a darker shade of blue.

"What happened to you?" Her fingers outline the bags under his eyes but he flinches, gently taking her wrists by her hands and placing them against his heart.

"We fought. First about my smoking. Then you. She gave me a choice." He does this odd shake, running a finger through his Mohawk and removes the cigarette from his mouth, blowing smoke in the air.

There's nothing to say really, so she pushes him out of her bed making him snort with suppressed laughter and he rolls, landing on his stomach.

"Just you wait you brat. The pyscho killer with a chainsaw and a hook is going to get your ass tonight." She laughs and picks up the covers but sees something tucked under a pillow.

"What, Gwen don't!" But it's too late, she's pulled out the photo and now her hands are the ones that shake.

Duncan and Courtney stare back at her, the mocha colored girl in his lap and Duncan has his arms wrapped around her, pressing his nose against her neck. They've both got the kind of smiles only two people in love and can and now, in the present Duncan can hear it.

The crack, snap, and the inevitable shattering of yet another girl's heart.

Gwen tilts her head and turns to face him, a perfectly blank expression on her face. She holds up the back with one slack hand and inscribed in the back in Duncn's loopy graffiti styled handwriting, he had written five words,

_I love you, Princess. Always._

"Even after this? After all this time?" She swallows and just barely manages to hide the tremor in her words. He was never hers to begin with. And his answer comes without though, it slips out of his lips his teal eyes shut and his hands clenched.

"Always."


	3. Chapter 3

He tells her on the third week. Things have been smooth, smoother than they've been in months.

But the bomb has to be dropped at some point.

"I want to cut my Mohawk." The words slip out one morning as he is stretched out on her bed wearing nothing but a wife beater and his favorite pair of boxers (the ones Courtney hated... the ones with the black skulls on them.)

"What the fuck have you been smoking Duncan?" She has perfected the art of keeping her voice still and calm, perfectly neutral but it doesn't stop her heart from pounding painfully in her chest.

"It's time to grow up Pasty. Time I grew up." He tosses a cigarette between he fingers, blatantly oblivious to Gwen's displeasure.

Painfully ignorant of her sadness.

"Whatever Duncan. You're bat shit crazy…" Her voice lowers and bemusedly she recognizes that the paint has dried at the tips of her fingers.

He'll have that puppy dog expression in his eyes, but she isn't steady to hold hid gaze. Today, she can't be his knight in shining armour so instead she asks-

"Are you asking me to take you? Some place no one knows your name?" She forces her hands to move the paintbrush, her body on autopilot as she forces herself to smile over at him.

"Please." He seems sort of deflated, more than a little defeated. It clicks then; so simple she should have seen it coming.

All he wants is a new start.

A second chance.

_With Her. Not me. _Whispers the little voice in the back of her head.

* * *

The barber is kind to them.

He's a haughty kind of man but he has these green eyes that see into her and a nice smile with those perfect facial features.

Gwen wonders what a man like him is doing in a place like this. A place where he'll have to get his hands dirty. But despite this he is kind.

It's only a small random act, a smile that reached his eyes, a lingering look, the shake of his head when she offers him cash for the hair cut but it's enough to make her feel.

Enough to feel _special. _

He doesn't disappoint. Duncan's new hair is fabulous, jst like the ounk wanted.

And Gweh leaves, with a warmth in her stmach and the barber's number resting deep inside her pocket. He pressed it into her hand, his eyes meeting hers fr the briefest of secondest.

For a second, she can forget all about Duncan and the pain and the misery and focus on those eyes trained on her. Only her.

But Duncan pulls her back to him, he never fails to. He claims to hate it,but he won't stop rambling on about it. How much better things will be, how he can find a job how people won't call him a freak.

They both know he means Courtney won't call him a freak. Things can be better with Courtney.

And all Gwen can think is how this isn't her Duncan.

This isn't the man she knows, the boy she grew up with.

She's sitting in the car with a stranger, one who looks and talks just like her Duncan but one who has lost himself in the abyss.

For once, she's not sure she has the strength to pull him back out.

Because this time, she might get lost too.


	4. Chapter 4

"You need to step outside, clear your head and remind yourself of who you want to be." The barber, Alejandro, moves to brush the hair from her forehead, a melancholy twinkle in his viridian eyes.

"Chica, need to take a very deep breath. You need to forget everything that's happened to you. You need to break away from what is holding you back."

They both know of what he speaks. Of whom he speaks of.

Her lips part but the words lodge themselves in her throat. She gently removes his hand from her face, holding it for a second too long, their skin tones contrast beautifully; they make a stunning couple different in everyway.

"Alejandro, I can't… He needs me." Even to her ears the words sound hollow and flat, it sounds like excuse instead of sincerity. Gwen clamps her lips and purposefully stares at her feet so she doesn't have to meet his smoldering, slightly smug face.

"You poor lost little thing. He doesn't need you

"The worst types of monsters are the ones who don't even realize the damage they cause to those they _love_." Alejandro sneers at the words, a stormy expression his eyes and she shoves him away, her sorrow turned into a hot painful flash of anger. Alejandro laughs at her, grabbing her wrists and holds them stepping closer.

She struggles against him, her eyes burning with an emotion neither can place.

"When was the last time you felt passion like this? When?" She says nothing, her pale skin stands out even more and she gasps as he presses his body against hers. He lets go of her wrists and tilts her face up so they meet eye to eye as if they are equals.

"It's not about passion-"

"Then what the is it about Gwen?" She can't think with his face looming next to her, can't think when his lips are ghosting down her neck, can't think when he presses a soft kiss against her neck.

Part of her wants to give in to this man, he is everything she doesn't stand for. And he wants her. Once upon a time that would have been enough; she would have succumbed to his desire.

But now, as he presses his body against hers she sees Duncan's blue eyes, his harsh grating laughter, and his crooked smile.

And sex with this strange, beautiful man just isn't enough anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time she gets back to the house, it is late and the rays of early morning dawn peek through the windows.

Her exhaustion is bone deep and no matter how many times she clenches her hands shut they won't stop shaking.

No matter how many times she takes a deep breath she can't rid herself of the scent of musk and cloves that seem to accompany Alejandro wherever he goes. And his eyes haunt her no matter how many times she squeezes her eyes shut.

Somehow her jittery hands twist her doorknob open; somehow she slips into the apartment. Her mind is muddled; one minute she sees herself with Duncan his arms thrown around her shoulder and the next Alejandro is laying on top of her their hips grinding together, her name on his lips.

It hurts, every fiber of her being hurts and she slips out of her converse and she shrugs her jacket off her shoulder. She doesn't notice the one lamp lit and the empty bed.

"Gwen." The sound of her name shocks her and she drops her coat, it lands with a dull thud onto the hardwood floor. The floor feels like ice and the tendrils of cold sink themselves into the soles of her feet. She feels like a doe caught in the headlights as she turns to face Duncan.

"Where have you been?" His voice is slurred, and he stumbles from the darkness, an angry glint in his eyes.

"I wasn't anywhere Duncan. I'm tired-" In one swift motion Duncan grabs her by the arms and shoves her against the door, the smell of alcohol overpowering. Gwen is winded, the breath knocked of her and she sees stars.

"Where have you been?" He brings his face closer, a hard glint in his clouded blue eyes. He presses his hips against hers, his grip tightening on her wrists.

"Duncan stop -" Gwen shuts her eyes and shrinks against the door, wishing for all the world she was anywhere but here.

He brings her face to his, a softer look in his eyes but she has to bitee back a scream as he runs his hands down her hips.

"You are mine, don't you ever forget it...whore." All she can do is pray, pray that he doesn't go any further, pray that he doesn't damage their relationship to the point of shattering into bits of broken heart.

_Things weren't supposed to be this way... Duncan... _


	6. Chapter 6

Her panties pool down by her feet, breath hitching in her chest as she squeezes her eyes shut, partially to will herself to forget, partially to make herself smaller, to make herself disappear from this retched place. With her heart pulsating in her ears, Gwen manages to swing her legs off the old bed frame, causing a steady creaking. Duncan is too drunk, or too deep asleep to hear it.

Sunlight pools at her feet, somehow she makes it to the mirror. Livid, purple bruises run down her shoulder blades, red crescent moons where his finger dug to deep. Her dark grey eyes are gaunt, no bra or anything to protect her from the chills of the morning light. Each rib pokes out in her skin, each breath ramming a knife between her ribs.

She needs to be anywhere but here. When her eyes close, Gwen feels his hands, pressing against places, secret places, private places that no one should enter lest invited. An odd sort of strength fills her bones.

_I can't stay here. _She thinks, she knows this to be true. For when Duncan does wake, his eyes will hold a mixture of pity and regret, placing blame on himself, as it should but it will not stop her eyes seeking out his, it will not stop her hand reaching out to forgive him for yet another transgression. She cannot forgive him, not after this.

The apartment is trashed, a half eaten burger laying on the floor, still in its wrapper. His hoodie is laying in a rumpled mess, and Gwen pulls it over the small frame of her shoulder as a talisman against the cold and other unsavory things.

Her paints, she can leave but the paint brushes hold too much nostalgia in their fine ends so she throws them at the bottom of her knapsack, on top of that a copy of her art book, her sketch book, pens, paper, a secret stash of cash and an extra ID. In spite, she takes the picture of Duncan and Courtney, and Duncan's lighter and cigarette.

A pair of scissors lies on the night stand, and without thinking, Gwen picks them up, the cold silver weighing in her palm. The weight of her hair falls, left with only a ragged pixie cut, short and neat, exposed thin cheeks, eyes with bags and a mouth lined with distrust.

He stirs, in bed causing the scissors to drop, and Gwen flees, running in the opposite direction, not knowing or caring where she is going, only trying to escape the Duncan of the now, and trying desperately to remember the Duncan that once was.

* * *

When Duncan wakes, an hour later, it is as if Gwen had never been their, the only thing left of her s mass of dark curls, tinged blue at the end.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I give up on this chapter**

* * *

"Gwen, get up." Her eyes are bloodshot. She sighs, curling up closer to the wood of the bench.

"Gwen, c'mon. Get up." The boy shakes her shoulder again. Unwillingly, Gwen's eyes open. The sky dark is grey, sky the colour of charcoal. It is a day that promises rain. She tilts her head, exposing hand shaped bruises. She shakes him off, scooting away. There is certain trepidation in her, a fear she'd best not face. But it's only her brother.

"Cory, what the hell are you doing here?" She says, with much relief. He shrugs, running a hand through brown curls that hang over his face. It's too early for anyone else to be out. Their only companions' red and gold leaves that spin like turnstiles in the wind. Gwen gets a better look at her younger brother.

They share the same pale skin, same cold grey eyes. He's got a beanie pulled over his mop of brown curls, a ratty NYU hoodie covering his broad shoulder which he gives to her as he sees her shiver.

"I came to see how my big sister was doing." He says it in a way that suggest this is common knowledge and that her question is in fact, completely useless.

"I'm a big girl now."

"It doesn't mean that you have to lock yourself away. But whatever, let's not fight." Cory holds up his hands, palms facing her. There's an awkward pause. They haven't seen each other in over a year, since the fallout between her and her mother.

"This is the reason I'm here." He finally says, breaking his sister's stony silence. Cory pulls out his Samsung, showing her a list of calls. All Duncan. One at twelve, one at one, one at three.

"What time is it?" Her throat constructs, words and feeling stuck within her, roiling and boiling over in the form of a tired smile, with tears threatening at the edge of her eyes.

"He told me what happened." Hot tears prickle from her eyes. The thought of anyone knowing about her shame is, in a word, unbearable. Her brother sits closer. He dwarf's her, a whole head higher even when sitting

"He had no right."

"It's not like you were going to tell me." He interrupts her tirade irritably and continues, " You had no intentions of telling Mom. Or me."

She grits her teeth, tries to pull away but he pulls her into a strong embrace. "You're going to say you don't need my help. But you do."

"Damn it Cory…"

"He's looking for you. You can't stay here."

"I know."

"Come back home…" He gazes down at her, soft, childish glint in his eyes.

"No. I have enough for half a month's rent. I'm going to rent an apartment. A new one."

"You don't have enough. Here-" Out of his pocket, he pulls out a wallet, stripping out one, two, three, four, five, six hundred dollars.

"Merry Christmas. Most of it is Mom's money. So take it." He folds the bill crisply between his fingers, holding it out towards his sister. She's isn't sure if she should berate him from (probably) stealing from their mother, or shower him with gratitude. She doesn't do either, saying only-

"Cory, no." Gwen sighs, rubbing at the hand shaped bruises on her neck.

"He did that to you. I'm going to kill him." Spoken with the conviction of an eighteen year old.

"I'll come home. Maybe. When I'm settled. I need to start over." She takes the money in front of her face, stuffing it in her pocket. This isn't how life is supposed to be, she thinks. Borrowing money from her brother, running from phantoms.

"This is all too much for me." She says, strapping on her backpack. She can't go back, she can't go home. She can only go forward.

"Then let me help you."

"This is my burden to bear Cory." She pulls at his curls, flashing a broken smile. She kisses him on his forehead and he goes limp in her arms. It's like they're kids again, but older and more worn.

"Will you be okay?"

"I don't think I can ever be okay. That's been taken from me."


End file.
